


Where Shadows Fall

by AngelicCacophony, watery_weasel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicCacophony/pseuds/AngelicCacophony, https://archiveofourown.org/users/watery_weasel/pseuds/watery_weasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve brought him back safe and sound, and now that the bars are closing down, Bucky may just be a little too buzzed to make it back to his quarters without a little help from his best pal...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Shadows Fall

"Buck- your legs aren't made of wet cardboard." Steve mutters nudging Bucky back to upright cause he's in a messy sprawl against Steve's big shoulder, and Steve's arm is around his waist, warmth wherever they touch even through their army dress. "You didn't drink that much." He reminds him.

"Drank enough." Bucky sort of straightens himself out, still halfway leaning against Steve's side, because it's comforting to have the solid wall next to him for support. "I'm feelin' pretty wobbly, so just keep me from falling over, okay pal," he laughs, looking up.

Bucky is milking it- but it is cold- usually is chill and wet in jolly old England, but Steve kind of likes it here- cramped streets and men and women in military uniform from different countries mingling together- all fighting for a good cause, petty differences shoved aside- unimportant. He shakes his head but this body- the strength in it, it's no strain to keep Bucky upright- to be his crutch. It's actually familiar, though it's easier in this body than it ever was back home in Brooklyn. 

"Always do, don't I?" Steve says and grips his hand a little tighter at Bucky's waist crisp shirt slightly rumpled at this point in the night. "Guess you had a pretty good thing worth celebrating too." Steve says, because he can't be mad at Bucky even if he'd done something worth being angry about- Bucky is still too close to almost dead. Because Steve can't stop thinking about the way he almost lost him and the touch is it's own reassurance, it's own comfort.

"Yeah, for some reason you always have my six." He can't help but get a little thrill from walking this close with Steve, and sure, he's hamming it a little bit, more for the benefit of anyone who sees them. Bucky doesn't want to raise any eyebrows, and a drunken soldier being helped home by his buddy's a pretty common sight anymore, with reasons to drink piling up by the day. He brings a palm up to ruffle the blond's hair with a laugh. "I had double the reason. Had to celebrate for you, too, right? That's how I ended up like this." 

It's strange, being supported by the same man that he used to do this for, seeing that Steve's taller than him, bigger than him, stronger. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to it, and it was too distracting, wondering if this is how his friend used to feel when the roles were reversed, if he felt the same little flutter in the pit of his stomach. "Really, thank you. I'd probably be leaning against buildings and going in a circle if it weren't for you. I owe ya, Steve."

"No mystery there, it's cause you always got mine." Steve says easily because well- Did Bucky think just cause he's big and super soldier-ish that he doesn't remember who he is? Who he always was before, still Steve Rogers just in a different box. A box that is still taking some getting used to but feels more- more normal, more his everyday, every time he can't help right a wrong, every time he can help somebody he claims more and more of this body. It becomes his own in inches. "I'm never going to forget who I am. Who my friends are. You never have to worry about that." Steve says- faltering, hoping that isn't a worry Bucky has but wanting to soothe it away anyhow.

"Oh so it's really all my fault is what you're saying?" Steve asks, mouth slanting in a lopsided smile as Bucky's fingers ruffle the neat comb of his hair, but it feels nice to be touched and he doesn't bother with a protest that'd be token at best. It's weird when Bucky tries to thank him though and the smile tumbles off his mouth, little furrow between his brows. "Don't start with that." Steve says, firm but not angry. He doesn't want to be thanked, not when it feels good to touch Bucky- casual and real and warm and alive.

It's good to be close to him to be reminded he's still around- that Steve doesn't have to lose one more person. He really doesn't think he could deal with that- and maybe- maybe if he thinks about the way Bucky's eyes are glazed and open, glittering like stars on the light from streetlamps, maybe its nice to be close to him, have him look up in at Steve's eyes and face and stare like some Hollywood actress looking to score a kiss from their leading man well- it's only a quick flutter of a thought. "Don't start with that. You know there aren't debts between us. Don't owe me anything. Besides- what would ya even give me, Barnes?" He asks, soft joke softer expression on his face.

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, he lets his head fall back for a second. "Gotta blame someone, right? 'Sides, if it's your fault, I can feel a little less guilty for makin' you walk me home." The joke's meant to lighten the mood just a little, because Bucky sometimes forgets that his sense of humor can come across a bit too literally sometimes. Really, though, he's almost happy to hear that firmness in Steve's voice, especially given the subject.

It's a comfort, that same scrawny kid just below the surface, still insisting that it's fine, even with the new look. It shook Buck more than he was willing to admit when he first saw his fellow soldier overseas, and he was glad that the only change had been physical. Steve lobs a quip back and Bucky's smiling a little brighter, letting out a real laugh, even if it is a little softer than it used to be, a little more worn around the edges. "Well damn, I guess you got a point there. You already know I'd follow you into hell and back out, and it's not like I need to offer to hook you up with someone. You're twice as good lookin' as me." So maybe there was a little jealousy. He's used to being the one who gets all the attention, not just from women, but from his best friend, and seeing both torn away, one by the other, was a little much, and a part of what had him hitting the bottle harder than normal.

"Y'know, I think this is the first time I can think of you have me at a loss for being a smartass. I got nothing," he mutters, his arm threading around Steve's waist for a little extra support, because the green eyed monster's just come up and wailed him in the jaw, leaving him even more off kilter than before. "I guess I got too used to being the pretty boy and being in the spotlight. It's hard seeing- never mind my drunk ass, I think I just oughta shut up."

Steve doesn't know why Bucky'd feel guilty- he wants to walk him, tipsy or not. He wants to keep his eyes on Bucky, wants to be close to him. He knows he's real- that he's alive but he wants to feel him, warm and vital. He wants to hear his laugh, the teasing jbs, wants to feel Bucky like this warm and real and comfortable against his side. He wants it- so he can't feel too bad about it, about any of it. They can't just- they can't have what they want. Steve isn't above getting a taste of it when he's got a good reason to slide his arm around Bucky's waist, his hips, to feel Bucky press against and up into him like he wants to feel Steve all over.

It's not real- and it's not- not enough, it's not what Steve really wants but what he wants is a squirming dark thing inside him he doesn't think about because he thinks it might get him punched, and he wouldn't blame Bucky a lick it he did. If Steve ever- acted on that. He's heard plenty about how it ain't natural but to Steve- loving Bucky had always been as natural as breathing and so- it'd taken him a while to notice when it was more than just friendship, brother love. 

"Knowing you'd follow me anywhere is more than enough. Sides, all I want is your friendship. You know me, Bucky, I'm easy." Steve says, kidding because Steve isn't anything like easy in the traditional sense but he's serious too- because if Bucky ever- if he did, Steve'd be easy for him. He knows it. He'd let Bucky treat him like one of his dames, charm him and let his lips go soft and open, let his legs slide apart. He snaps back from the thought internally, pushes it down. 'You're in a war, Rogers, get it together' he tells himself. "You just hush with that nonsense, Buck. Let's get it right, I'm still goofy Steve Rogers. Just cause somebody gave me a squarer jaw don't mean I'm some magazine pretty boy. Anyway- serum didn't change I still can't talk to dames." He admits, laughing.

"You're still pretty." Steve says without thinking, voice too soft and open and honest and- Damn he feels like a moron. One day, he's gonna learn not to run his mouth, but that isn't today, apparently. "I mean- unless my opinion doesn't count or something?" He asks, nudging his shoulder to Bucky's with a bump.

Steve's voice is just as intoxicating as anything they'd given him at the bar, more so, if that's even possible, and the weight Steve had before, that extra little something that had always pulled at Bucky is still there, stronger somehow from the change, if only because he hasn't really changed. It's eaten at Bucky for a while, and he's not so dense that he doesn't realize it somewhere deep down. But on the surface, he doesn't want to believe it. Sure, he's seen it before, back home in the back alley clubs that would let him sneak in, and even over here in damn near the same situation, just usually lacking a club. But he never found himself wanting to be in that position, not with some random stranger. If Bucky was going to take a stroll down a path that could lead to worse than what war could hand out, he wanted it to be with the one person who'd be worth it.

Even as the thoughts bubble up, he has to look away to hide the redness on his face. "It's not the jaw, or the muscles, or any of that," he mutters to the sidewalk that he's staring at with a soft, quick snort. "It's you. You got this way about you that makes whoever you talk to feel like they're the only person in the room, and you're- Steve, you're so damn dense to not be able to see what it is. Yeah, you're a looker. Swoon-worthy, even. But if you weren't who you are? People wouldn't be so attracted."

He freezes in his tracks at the question that hits him like a sucker punch. It shouldn't affect him like it does, but god, is Steve wrong. "Hey, you, um- You think we can maybe change the subject?" He's suddenly feeling sober as he makes the request, feeling like an idiot, but he can't lie, and how's he supposed to tell Steve- "Your opinion's the only one that matters," he whispers without thinking, his brain betraying him and forcing him to spit it out. "Fuck."

Steve doesn't know what to say to that- because it's Bucky, the person, maybe the only one in the whole world whose alive that really knows him. Knows Steve Rogers, not Captain America, knows Steve under all the muscles and the flag themed outfit and- all the flash. Bucky knows him so when he says stuff like this- it makes Steve stop and listen, listen and flush and not even know what he can say, his tongue heavy and clumsy in his mouth.

"Bucky I- you." He doesn't know what to say at all, wants to slump into Bucky and put both arms around him, wants to draw him up close and squeeze him because Bucky's always had a way about him. A way that- that made Steve feel special, important, enough. He's always felt like he was good enough around Bucky, even if he hadn't been big or strong. "Maybe. I just- people are fascinating, the things they do. Trying to figure out why, where they've come from, where they're going." Steve says, trying to explain something of the why. 

He blinks at the sudden look on Bucky's face, sour and hurt- like Steve snuck in a shot that curled up under his ribs and hit him deep. He hates when he does that- never means to make his words bruise or hurt. Would never chose to hurt Bucky, or put that look on his face if he could help it. Before he can say anything, Bucky is talking again and Steve understands the look because the words punch the air out of Steve, like a hit straight to the diaphram, knocking air from his lungs, exhale curling smoke in the wet cold. "If mines the only one that matters than- know that I think you're-" Steve shifts and stops on the street, stares at Bucky intensely. "You're the prettiest guy I've ever met. And one of the best to boot. Wouldn't want anybody on my side more than you. I think I could take on the world with you- I'll be the shield arm and you can wield the sword. Together- we're just. We fit."

"Don't say that." Bucky starts off walking again, giving Steve a firm tug to get him to keep his grasp and come along, because while he's scared of being seen standing- presumably still drunk despite his clear head- in the arms of another man, it's nothing compared to the fear he feels at the thought of Steve letting go of him. Bucky's barely anchored right now by the gentle but powerful arm around him, and if Steve lets go, he's afraid his whole world's going to come crashing down, and hard.

He sighs quietly, eyes still on the ground as he strolls along, still feigning drunkenness for the benefit of anyone who might see them, as he finally finds the right words to explain what's going through his head. "You can't say that, okay? It's- it's complicated, and confusing, and it's-" His free hand rubs at his face as he grunts in frustration. What he wants to say is there, only it's trapped behind his clumsy tongue and numbed lips, and his faltering confidence really isn't helping matters.

"The problem's that we fit like we do. You- d'you know how hard it was without you when I got here? Every damn minute I wasn't in action, I was worrying about you, wondering if you were gonna be okay without me." His breath's coming a little shorter, the same old feelings slinking back in, the same sense he had then coming back full force. He pulls himself against Steve completely, his voice going low. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, and then boom. You were there, saving me just like always. And before you say a word, yeah, you've saved me, Steve. You saved me back when we were kids just by being there, and kept doing it, and-"

He tries not to look up again, but the draw's too strong and he's looking at Steve in a way that you just don't look at your best pal in, tight lipped and trying to choke it back but losing the fight. "Steve, I never stopped thinking about you, not even when I'd lay down, shivering, and think about those winter nights in the city when we'd be all huddled up for warmth. And that's why you can't say it. 'Cause there's too much there, and if we get into it, it's gonna change things, and I don't want you to hate me- Or maybe knock me out. So please, just- Just don't say something that makes it almost impossible for me to keep my trap shut."

Bucky looks at him and his eyes are beautiful, shiny like semi-preious stones- but refined, like uncut diamonds or something. It sounded like something in a poem or one of those slightly cheesy Hollywood romance movies that Steve liked so much. They really do glitter though and it makes something inside him twist, a want that quivers in his belly like this dark half formed thing he's never acted on but had always been harbored, kept deep and down and- something dusty and locked away because Bucky wouldn't-

Bucky wouldn't and Steve couldn't let himself think that he could because it wasn't right- but it felt right. That part confused him because it wasn't him he had a problem with- it was what could happen to him, happen to him and Bucky if they acted on- something like that. They tell him it's a sin but here he is- fighting a war and he's going to kill people and- and isn't that sin too? So why can he kill bad man, but he can't kiss just one great one, can't hold Bucky against him and curl his fingers in the thick waves of his brown hair even though his fingers itch with it. "But it's true." Steve says, mouth stubbornly gathered, sad pout half on his lips. "I wouldn't say it if it weren't true. All the guys in the world- you're the one I always want to have on my side." Steve says again- insistent and needing to say it, whether Bucky listens or not.

Steve is being towed along, and there aren't many people on the streets. Certain buildings dark and quiet- boarded up windows, but nobody is paying them any mind. "And you think it's not like that for me?" Steve asks, harsh and quiet. Does Bucky not even know?

"You know how I sat in that apartment in Brooklyn and felt like I was alone in the universe cause the one guy who got me- who was always on my side was over here without me. The one guy I depend on." He sighed and just looked at him, eyes sad , mouth down-turned and wet. "I sat at home driving myself crazy thinking of you fighting- maybe dying in some godforsaken foxhole and knowing I wouldn't be there to have your back." He had hated that, an actual ache that made it feel like it was cracking his rib-cage open. 

The words hurt- that Bucky thinks he could- that he would, even if it wasn't the same for him and it is and he wants so badly it's like being stabbed in the gut, sharp and aching and lodged in deep, something that leaves him open and bleeding. "You're a moron, Barnes." Steve says, low and hoarse and he's grabbing Bucky by his shoulders and pushing, guiding him back into a shadow against a brick wall, Bucky's feet clumsy and they crash into the wall, not hard but hip to hip, legs knocking and locked up between each other. "So am I actually." He added, hand soft on Bucky's face, caressing his cheek like he's gonna get pushed or slapped away, like something he's got to savor. 

"I'm gonna kiss you if you don't push me away." Steve says, in warning and makes sure the way he dips in, head tipping to the side is slow, eyes open and locked on Bucky's like they're playing chicken, like one of them is going to break and push somebody away.

Bucky barely realizes what's going on before he's against the wall and Steve's voice has the same qualities he's used on more than a few dames, and he knows now why their legs go weak, why they stop breathing and can't take their eyes off of him. His hands lock together at the small of Steve's back like it's their home, and it is, in a way. The times he'd held Steve through coughing fits, massaged at the birdlike frame if he was in pain, traced it with his eyes. It's different but the same, and being in the safety of Steve's arms breaks something inside of him.

"Who's stopping you?" He couldn't say where the confidence was coming from, whether it was the alcohol or the rush he got from being so close to Steve that he caught that soft scent that he'd dreamed of while in the trenches, trying to catch a few winks between rounds being dropped.

Bucky's drawn up toward the approaching lips, and it feels like watching a wreck in slow motion, the analogy a little too close for comfort. If this happens, it's going to take things and twist them into something else. Maybe nothing bad, but it's never going to be the way it was before. He searches his brain for something to say so he can keep his mouth busy, give Steve an excuse to swerve at the last minute-

But nothing comes. He's blank, and Steve's only an inch away, and before he can even manage a noise, they're kissing and his heart's about to burst from his chest as his eyes fall shut. Even in his mind, when he'd have those fleeting thoughts, it was never like this, it was always an accident, and never this close.

Somehow, he ends up standing tip toed and pressing up into the kiss, his grip so firm he's shaking trying to keep hold, praying to a god he's not sure he still believes in that this is real and not just some shell shock induced dream. His thoughts are screaming past at break neck speed as he pulls away, letting his heels slowly touch down, his face worried and happy all at once.

He pops back up to steal another quick peck, still convinced even with Steve taking charge, that he's about to be socked and end up ass over tin cup on the ground. "You oughta know by now, I don't back down either. Learned that from one of the best looking and smartest fellas I've ever had the honor of knowing."

Steve can't help himself- even if he wanted to, it's hard with Bucky looking up at him like that through the thick fan of his lashes, eyes wet and a little bloodshot. Eyes still a little drunk even though Bucky's not slurring, and he knew half of the stumbling into him had been Bucky hamming it up. Trying to be annoying- or maybe, looking back- wanting to be close to Steve, needing a good reason to be tucked under his arm, up against his side. There are hands on his back, sliding down and linking pressing in like a hot brand of touch in the deep curve of the small of his back, almost touching the high curve of Steve's ass in his crisp military pants. 

Bucky says he didn't want this- tried to steer them off this course but now that Steve's got him pressed against him, pinned by his body and weight and warmth Bucky is breathing easy, half arching into Steve's touch, welcoming him, like he's greedy for it. Like all Bucky needed was the push- needed to know that Steve wanted it too- that's Steve's been aching for Bucky like this since- since he can't remember when it started. It had started so small, such a quiet thing and it'd been a seed, planted and nurtured in the back of his mind, but it'd thrived and grew and now- now he needs to act on it, he needs to know what he's feeling inside is real- that it's valid.

"Thought you would." Steve murmured but he's glad Bucky doesn't, his head tips back, angles for Steve like it's easy and they're so close and Bucky pushes up on the balls of his feet presses their lips together. It's all- it's so Bucky- confident and sharp- like a punch and a dare and Bucky's lips are warm, just a little chap and Steve presses back, gentles as he matches their lips, one between the other and his mouth opens a bit, kissing the swell of Bucky's lower lip between his and there's just a flick of his tongue against a lip. 

There's an electrical crackle to the touch, even just brushes of warm skin and there's a sigh on Steve's lips when Bucky sinks down and he just wants more, wants to sigh against Bucky's lips, wants to hold him close and rub against him, sweaty and indecent. Steve's blushing- or is that flushing when there's a good physical reason for it? He feels hot all over, prickling with want and sensitivity, like any touch right now is only going to drive him even crazier. 

"I know you don't. We never. Neither of us has a lick of sense, but I don't want sense. I don't want rational." Steve says, because he doesn't want what people think he'd want, he just wants Bucky, smart-assed and challenging and biting kisses to the soft open slack of his lips. Wants Bucky to be hot under the collar for him, wants to be Bucky's girl, pushed down to a bed under the weight of that charming grin and flash of teeth. He wants to be wanted and he wants Bucky to do the wanting and Steve isn't used to getting what he wants- never thought this.

"I've- for a while." Steve murmurs and presses down into Bucky, chasing the feeling and smothering a soft sound as he kisses Bucky, soft and repeatedly and fleeting, different angles and licks of tongue, their noses bumping and nudging. 

"Before the serum- I dreamed about it sometimes, you wanting me like that. Putting me on my belly in that bed back in Brooklyn- having me- having me spread my legs for you." He says and he bites his lip to keep from saying anything else.

The vague admission sets off the embers in his stomach to a full burn, and Bucky starts to come undone just a little bit, his hands separated and sliding down over the starched, sharp pleats along the back of Steve's pants, fingers digging desperately at his ass as he chases after Steve's lips and the small, sweet tastes he's taking.

"Me too. Sort of. Sometimes it was you underneath me, my chest against your back." He somehow manages not to look away, even though his face is burning and he's pretty sure that he'll be dealing with a growing problem at any second. "Sometimes- sometimes I was on my knees in front of you." The embarrassment deepens the hue on his face as he feels himself start to strain at the front of his slacks.

He pushes off of the wall with his shoulders, rolling Steve against it and leaning into him, and Bucky knows damn well that Steve could pick him up one handed and not feel it. He can't help but slip just under the waist of Steve's pants, untucking his shirt and tracing along the forbidden flesh that he'd always been careful to avoid in the past.

"Steve." He whispers the name in a tone he'd never used, one that spoke of years of mutual stubborn respect and worry, and no matter how noble their reasons, none of them mattered. The crisp air bit at the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. "Steve, I want you, but I need to hear you say it. I can't- I need to make sure it's what you want." 

Bucky lifted up, bringing his lips to Steve's ear, tracing the shell with his tongue. "Steve, please, I need to hear you make that little moan you did when you'd take care of things and you thought I was sleeping- The ones that used to drive me to do the same." His hand paused at the front of Steve's hip, his nails dragging softly just under Steve's boxers. "Let me take care of you."

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an ongoing collaborative series. New installments will be posted as they're written.


End file.
